


bitter bean juice

by peppersnot, starsapart



Series: coffeeshop au [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5384306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppersnot/pseuds/peppersnot, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsapart/pseuds/starsapart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fushimi Saruhiko hates early mornings, coffee shops, and all people. One day he will quit his job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bitter bean juice

**Author's Note:**

> this was a collab with [antonia](http://yuelles.tumblr.com). i realised i've never written a coffee shop au before which is sad and strange because i love coffee shops
> 
> one day saru will quit his job. *watches episode 8* oh wait...

At this point, he was probably just a body without a soul, lifelessly going through the motions. The human body really was amazing – it could sustain itself by muscle memory. He was slowly starting to appreciate high school biology classes, and that said a lot about the state of his life right now.

It was five in the fucking morning, because his sadistic boss decided that dead-on-their-feet college students and pathetic people going to their meaningless jobs were to be their intended target demographic, and that meant _he_ had to wake up even earlier. It had been a colossal mistake telling Munakata that he only took afternoon classes this semester. He had the nagging thought that Munakata had already known, and had just been looking for confirmation. He should have guessed.

Still, if Saruhiko was forced to be awake at this godforsaken hour, he wasn’t going to pretend to be happy about it. His customer service wasn’t exactly ideal when he was awake and aware either, and he preferred it that way. Him? Cheery and likeable? Please. He was there to serve _coffee_ , not to be the face of optimism as Awashima often tried (unsuccessfully) to make him.

He wasn’t interested in retail, because the customers there were mostly middle aged ladies with no respect for any living creatures besides themselves, and he wasn’t ready to deal with that, thank you very much. He would have been fired on the first day, even if he tried. Actually, he’d be fired pretty much anywhere else, and had also expected to be fired on this job, but Munakata seemed permanently amused by his attitude so here he was. And well, he needed the money, so he wasn’t going to complain.

No, that was a lie; he did complain, and he complained a lot, but he wasn’t going to quit, so that had to account for something.

So the setting: it was early, he was barely awake, hated the world like every other goddamn day and he was the only idiot in the coffee shop because everyone else arrived around six, those bastards. Awashima usually opened the shop with him, but she had something to do today – like probably take a two hour bath in red bean paste. It wasn’t like he enjoyed her company, but if he had to suffer, he would much rather not do it alone.

It wasn’t a very long wait before their first customer arrived, though. If he had any fucks to give, he would have been embarrassed to be found taking a nap at the counter, but he didn’t, so he wasn’t. _Gloomy Fushimi,_ they called him. He was kind of fond of that.

The boy – was he even old enough to walk around on his own at this time? – came in with a skateboard sticking out of his bag, and he didn’t seem conscious enough to ride it. He looked very much dead on his feet.

“Are you open?” he asked, and that was enough to tell Saruhiko about his intellectual abilities.

“No, I just enjoy being awake at this hour. What do you think?”

The boy stayed quiet for a bit. “So, are you open?”

Saruhiko sighed. Kids these days were getting stupider and stupider. “Yes, it’s open. What do you want?”

“Tallest, strongest coffee you got. With like, lots of cream and stuff, cause I don’t like the bitter taste.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, and the boy handed him the money. At least it was a simple order, and Saruhiko appreciated the simple joy of not having to think this early in the morning. Sometimes way too cheery people came in and asked for his recommendations, and someone else would always rush to answer for him because his responses were usually something along the lines of ‘quick death to escape the nightmare of life’, which got him horrified looks from soccer moms and old ladies and chuckles from middle aged men who thought he had an incredible sense of humour.

He went on to make the coffee. The smell of the beans gave him a little more energy, although maybe it was just the moving that woke him up.

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name or something?” The boy asked, standing unsteadily on his feet, brows furrowed in confusion.

“The point of that is not getting orders confused when there are a lot of people,” Saruhiko said. “I doubt I can forget this is yours when you’re the only one here.”

“Oh. Okay.” He stayed very quiet for a moment. “It’s Yata, by the way.”

“I don’t care,” Saruhiko said. “Here’s your coffee, but I don’t know if it can be called that anymore. It’s so sweet, the smell gave me cavities.”

Yata took a sip and his expression changed as if all the light on earth was shining out from inside his body. “It’s good, thank you!” He said and rushed to the door.

Saruhiko lay down on the counter and closed his eyes. Peace, at last.

* * *

He honestly wasn’t expecting the guy to come again – they weren’t a very _well known_ shop, if he was completely honest about it – but there he was a week later, bag hanging from his shoulder, skateboard under his arm and a spectacular case of bed head. Saruhiko sighed.

“Coffee for people who want diabetes?” He asked, before Yata had a chance to speak.

“Nobody wants diabetes,” Yata replied. “But yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s not a favour. You have to pay.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Awashima throw him a murderous look. Maybe he’d been too loud.

“Oh, right.” Yata put the skateboard on the counter – which Saruhiko would have to clean up later, because clearly kids didn’t have any sense of hygiene either, along with their newfound slowness – and started to scramble through his bag in search of money. When he finally produced it, he had a light blush on his face. “Here. Sorry.”

Saruhiko clicked his tonge and went to make the coffee, and for some reason, the boy took it as an invitation to speak to him, because that was obviously what his current expression and stance implied.

“My name is Yata,” he said, as if they hadn’t had the same conversation before. Honestly.

“I know,” he replied. “But again, I don’t care.”

He thought Awashima was going to bring out a crowbar and hit him over the head with it, but to his – and hers, probably – Yata just laughed. “You’re so grumpy. It’s cute. I hate cheery people first thing in the morning.”

For a moment, there was absolute silence in the store, save for the sound of the machine running.

“Did you,” he said, when he regained his ability to speak. “Did you just call me cute? Because you’re not getting a discount for trying to flirt with me.”

He hadn’t _minded_ the comment – it was a first, honestly – but the best part was the incredible shade of purple Yata’s face became as he stammered and tried to explain himself.

“W-what?! No! I didn’t call you cute! I said you were _grumpy –_ ”

“Oh, well that’s much better, thank you.”

“I didn’t call you cute! The _grumpiness_ is cute, even if it didn’t come from you. You’re not cute, I swear, I didn’t mean that.”

“I’m offended,” Saruhiko said, and Yata started rambling again. He would have happily spent the whole day trying to come up with a good excuse for what he’d just said, but the coffee was done, and he was pretty sure Awashima was about to pull out her phone and start recording everything.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Here’s your coffee.”

“Thanks,” Yata murmured, and the look of relief on his face was evident.

“You should try to think before you speak,” he called out as Yata reached the door, and he let out something between a squeak and a cry as he hurried to go.

It was just him and Awashima again, who was looking at him with so much amusement that Saruhiko wanted to lock her in a pit with a lion. She’d probably win though, so that wouldn’t be very useful.

“It seems,” she said in a deadpan voice that only made everything worse. “That Grumpy Fushimi has an admirer.”

“Shut up. I hate you.”

* * *

Of course she didn’t shut up, not that he’d ever expected her to. She told Munakata who decided to have a _private_ talk with him – consisting of him speaking as loudly as possible about the ethical problems of dating customers.

(There were none, as long as he didn’t give out free stuff.)

In short, he was given his boss’ blessing in the most obnoxious way possible, in front of an audience comprising of his annoying, nosy co-workers, but he wasn’t surprised at all. It was Munakata, after all.

He received at least ten congratulatory comments varying in degrees of surprise at his ability to get himself a boyfriend, and apparently calling him _Grumpy Fushimi_ was now a thing. Not to his face, of course, since everyone has a sense of self preservation, even if they’re idiots, but in the last three days he’d heard the name being thrown around, followed by loud giggling fits.

At least _Gloomy Fushimi_ had given him a gang aura, whereas grumpy just made him think of internet cat memes.

It was pointless, anyway, because after last time, Yata was most likely never showing his face around again. Which was just as well, since he seemed to be more trouble than good.

He wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t show up the following week. He was _annoyed_ , because Awashima kept throwing him pitiful looks, and he didn’t need that, thank you.

Except – and Saruhiko wanted to throw himself on the floor and die there – he _did_ show up later that day, fifteen minutes before Saruhiko was done with his shift, and therefore would have had a legitimate reason to ignore him, if Awashima didn’t all but throw him at the counter and make sure nobody was around to interrupt. So of course, they were all staring.

Including Munakata, who had left his office to watch. His life was one big fucking joke.

“You want your usual?” He asked. He’d try to make this as efficient as possible. Less ammunition for anyone to use against him.

“Oh, no – I have – wait,” Yata frantically searched through his pockets, laughing nervously. “A list! I have a list!”

He held up a crumpled paper in triumph and Saruhiko eyed him steadily.

“Great. I’m very happy for you. Are you going to order or not?”

“Yeah, I’m getting coffee for everyone, so…”

Saruhiko’s face fell and he shot a disgusted look at the paper. “How many is ‘everyone’?”

“Oh, um…” Yata counted on his fingers, face scrunched into a frown. “Five? Six, including me.”

Saruhiko groaned, and some very nasty words almost left him before he realized his stupid boss was smiling at him in amusement, and some of his co-worker were trying to ‘subtly’ record the whole event, which meant that if he decided to secretly murder a customer, they’d have evidence. He needed another job. “ _Fine_ , okay, let’s get this over with.”

Yata was thankfully decent at reading, although he did stutter a bit, but Saruhiko was too on guard to make fun of that.

“I’ll be paying with my card,” the boy said, handing it over.

Saruhiko looked at it briefly. For a moment, he considered not mentioning the thing, because he wanted him gone, but really. This was too much. “Are you using your mother’s card?”

Yata tripped over himself as he tried to spit out excuses. “W-what?! Why would you even think that? I’m a grown man, I have my own things!”

“So this is yours.”

“Yes!”

“And,” Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s your name.”

The boy, finally noticing what Saruhiko was getting at, turned a colour he’d never seen on people who weren’t choking – not that he’d seen many people choking, but still. “I-I - ”

“Please confirm your payment, _Misaki_.”

For a few seconds, Yata sputtered before snatching the card back and looking at it in mock surprise.

“O-oh! This _is_ my mom’s after all! I must have gotten hers by mistake!” He laughed a little too loudly, rubbing the back of his head. Saruhiko could feel the amusement radiating out of the back room and silently sent curses at everyone watching. Which included the old lady on a nearby table who seemed to have no qualms about openly gawking at the sight – and it wasn’t even something very _interesting_. People these days, he concluded, were just sad and bored.

“Sorry.” Saruhiko said, shaking his head gravely. “If you want to use that card, then the holder must be present.”

“Fuck you! I just want my stupid coffee!”

“Then either bring your mom, or admit that’s your name, and I’ll take the card.

Yata – _Misaki,_ he was sure. He wasn’t stupid, although the mom excuse had been – glared at him, although it wasn’t as effective as it could have been, considering his face was still bright pink and he was – well, he was short, and looked like a kid. And he had a scowl on his face that reminded him of his neighbour’s stupid Chihuahua, so any intimidation he was meant to have felt was pretty much useless.

“Just give me my order, I’ll pay in cash.”

Saruhiko shrugged. “Okay.”

Misaki dug through his bag for his wallet, and spent five annoying minutes only trying to find it – seriously, how much crap can one person fit in one bag? It wasn’t even a _big_ bag. He rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers impatiently against the counter, tremendously aware of the wide eyes looks he was most likely getting from behind the tinted screen and the fucking sadistic smile on Munakata’s fucking face. He could very clearly picture it. He was quitting today.

“I - ” Misaki laughed nervously, looking up at him. “I don’t have my wallet.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake –”

“Okay look! My name is –” Misaki’s voice dropped to a whisper. “My name is Misaki, okay? Just give me my order!”

“Do you have proof?” Saruhiko said, resting an elbow on the counter and scowling. “You know, if I take the card and it turns out to not be yours, I’ll get into trouble, and I don’t want that added hassle in my life, thank you.”

“I have proof,” Misaki said, and opened his bag again – although thankfully, this time he knew exactly where he’d kept what he was looking for because within two seconds he was holding a card up in Saruhiko’s face. His college ID card, it appeared, and Saruhiko noted the name _Yata Misaki_ next to a smiling photograph. He sighed and handed it back, swiping the credit card on the reader.

“Who knew Misaki could actually be an adult?”

“ _Don’t call me that! It’s Yata!”_

“Sure, whatever.”

Saruhiko handed the card back and went about in preparing the six million (only six) coffees Misaki had ordered. It didn’t take long, surprisingly. The orders were simple, and if he was honest, he was too busy marveling at this new discovery to actually register that he was working. Muscle memory – he marveled at it again.

“Thanks,” Misaki said, still a faint shade of pink as he took the coffees. He held his hand up in a wave and walked off.

“If you diots could come out of your hiding places, there’s work to do here,” Saruhiko snapped at his audience, as the door closed, and he noticed smiles on all their faces as they emerged. Smiles they were very obviously trying to hide, except for Munakata, who was openly smiling. Domyouji even went as far as to give him a thumbs up, to which he considered responding with another hand gesture that wasn’t very nice, but he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with them today. Assholes.

“I’m glad to see you’re getting along with the customers, Fushimi-kun,” Munakata told him as he passed by. “Have a nice day.”

Saruhiko cursed under his breath and vowed he’d never consider a coffee shop as a nice place to work ever again.

* * *

Sadly, a broke college student living alone doesn’t really have many options, so he found himself back at work again, ignoring any and all comments or suggestive looks he received from his co-workers concerning a certain customer – a customer who seemed to either like annoying him, or just their coffee, because he showed up again a few days later. This time he didn’t have the skateboard though, and he sat down on one of their counter stools. Saruhiko thanked the gods he was on his break, and ignored Domyouji’s loud proclamation of the arrival of ‘Fushimi-san’s boyfriend’.

But the universe hated him, and he was aware of that, so he was only half surprised when he came to the front after his break was over, and was greeted by the jingle of the bell over the door, signifying the entry of a customer – or, as it turned out, half a million customers, who saw Misaki at the counter and made a beeline for it.

“Oh, Yata! You’re here!” One of them said loudly, taking the stool next to Misaki’s and throwing an arm over his shoulders.

“So, which one is the guy you like?!” Said another.

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at the ruckus they were causing, and the scandalized look on the face of the old couple on one of the nearest tables – and of course, the comment just made, although he told himself he really was _not interested_ in it, of course not. He also noticed Misaki’s face turn the same shade of reddish purple that he’d come to associate with him being embarrassed, and his mouth open in what he assumed was going to be a series of curses and embarrassed sputters. It was cute.

He didn’t have time to think about any of the happenings, or to realize where his train of thought had just headed because suddenly there was an arm around his own shoulder and Hidaka pulled him forward.

“It’s Fushimi-san,” he said cheerfully to the group, and left just as suddenly as he had appeared. He was now the only one there. Everyone else had escaped to the back to watch what was apparently a very amusing sight to behold. Maybe he could do them a favour and make them some popcorn – his life was turning into a fucking reality show, he could just accept it and die. Or he could kill them. That sounded nicer.

“Can I help you,” he said blandly, because he didn’t care about their number one rule (be polite to customers,  no matter how rude they may be) and never had, but this was a case where he thought maybe Awashima wouldn’t yell at him for not following it.

Or maybe yell _extra_ , since it was Misaki. He could never be sure with her.

“Not me,” the guy next to Misaki said. “But you could probably help Yata with something.”

_“I don’t need anything, Chitose, you bastard! Shut up!”_

“I deal with him enough as it is.” Honestly, what happened to the idea of _co-_ workers? Where was Hidaka? Wasn’t he supposed to be working with him right now? Assholes.

“Yata won’t shut up about you,” one of the others said, this one with wisps of blond hair peeking out from under a blue hoodie. He looked ominous.

“ _What the fuck, Eric!”_

“He clearly has bad taste, though,” Eric continued. “You don’t seem like a very nice person.”

“You’re not that bad looking though,” Chitose said. “Even I can admit that.”

“ _Don’t listen to them!”_ Misaki yelled, throwing himself across the counter to wave desperately in Saruhiko’s face. An attempt to catch his attention and distract him, but that latter wasn’t happening. “They’re lying!”

“Are they,” Saruhiko drawled. “Or do you really never shut up about me? I remember you calling me cute, once.”

There were catcalls and loud hooting all around, and Saruhiko instantly regretted the comment. Not out of  _embarrassment_ , fuck no - they were so goddamn  _loud_ , why couldn’t annoying people just shut up and die? Misaki’s reaction sort of made up for it though – a brilliant shade of scarlet covering his face and he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words.

“I-I never called  _you_  cute! I said  _being grumpy_  was a cute thing! On everyone!”

“And he’s clearly grumpy,” Chitose said. “You should have told me what your preferences were _before_ I tried setting you up on blind dates.”

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. What the fuck. He was tired and he wanted to go home so he could sleep for a while before his classes, and these people were wasting his time and saying stupid things and making noise. He could see other customers eyeing the group disdainfully, and was even more annoyed when he realized none of his co-workers – Awashima included – was trying to make them go away, or at least be quieter.

“Can I get you anything, if not, please leave because you’re disturbing other customers.”

“Yeah, get lost,” Misaki said, glaring over them over his cup before taking a big sip. It wasn’t very wise on his part, because the next second he was yelling and sticking his tongue out in an attempt to cool it down. Clearly, Saruhiko thought, idiots couldn’t read the _Warning: Very Hot_ sign on the cup. He voiced as much and Misaki glowered at him.

“It’s _your_ fault for giving me such hot coffee!”

“Firstly, I wasn’t the one who took your order, and secondly, I’m not sure if you’re aware but coffee is generally served hot.”

“Not _this_ hot!”

“It’s not my fault you’re too childish to handle it,” Saruhiko smirked. “What, does it hurt? Want me to kiss it better?”

A weighty silence settled upon the entire group and Saruhiko realized only after a second, the gravity of his mistake, heat rising up the back of his neck and into his face when he did so. Fuck him and his life to hell and back. If it was possible he’d probably dig himself a hole and sit in it to wait for the sweet escape of death.

Misaki, on the other hand, stared at him with an expression a mix of shock and surprise, as well as a heavy blush covering his face. And his ears were bright red, he could see them. Not that he was really one to say anything – he probably looked like a tomato right now. It didn’t help that he was abnormally pale, so it was probably more obvious on him than on Misaki.

“W-wh – wha? What the f-fuck?!”

“That was smooth,” Chitose commented, nodding in approval and Saruhiko wanted to throw the rest of Misaki’s coffee in his face. “I definitely appreciate that, but you’ll have to be patient with him, he has no experience.”

Saruhiko looked at Misaki dryly. Some of the embarrassment kind of faded away, since nobody had directly targeted him for his slip. His co-workers would do that later, he could say for sure, but for now at least he was fine. “So,” he said. “You’re a virgin.”

Misaki sputtered. “ _I don’t see how that has anything to do with this?!”_

“It doesn’t,” Saruhiko told him. “But I mean, since you claim to be a _grown man_ and all, I thought you’d have had – ”

“Shut up! That’s completely irrelevant!”

“Can I get you anything or will you now please leave me alone,” he ignored the outburst to turn to Misaki’s friends who all shook their heads.

“We’ll leave you alone,” Eric said, standing up. “Have fun, Yata.”

“ _I’m leaving too!”_ Misaki cried and stood up hastily as the other boys shuffled out of the café, laughing amongst themselves.

“No, you’re not,” Saruhiko called out, smirking. “You haven’t paid yet. _Misaki_.”

Groaning. Misaki dug a mess of bills and coins out of his pocket and slammed them on the counter before running out with his cup. He’d probably spill it on himself and get third degree burns, that idiot. Saruhiko looked at the money in annoyance. It was way too much for one cup of coffee. In fact, it would probably suffice for three. He sighed and put it all in the register, shaking his head and ignoring Hidaka as he slinked towards the front (which he should have done before this entire fiasco) and gave him a grin that he assumed was meant to be suggestive. The only thing it suggested was that everyone was going to be six feet under very soon.

Why did he feel so light headed today?

* * *

He wasn’t really surprised when Misaki didn’t show up again after that – or maybe he was, because every other time he’d thought he wasn’t coming back, _he’d come back_. Still, he was thankful, because his co-workers has perhaps suffered some sort of disease at a young age that made them insufferably nosy adults who wanted nothing more than to butt into other people’s lives. Honestly, Misaki wouldn’t come back after _that_.

Which is why, naturally, he let his guard down and was fully surprised (and annoyed) when, a week and a half later, he emerged from the bathroom after his shift to find Awashima standing there, arms folded across her chest and looking impatient. He tensed.

“I don’t know what you want, but I’m not doing it,” he said and she waved a hand.

“You had a visitor,” she said, and Saruhiko almost groaned.

“I’m off my shift,” he snapped. “I’m going home, you can deal with - ”

“It wasn’t him,” she interrupted. “It was one of his friends, and he left this for you.”

She handed him a slip of paper and it was only then that Saruhiko noticed the amusement in her eyes that he’d mistaken for tiredness before. He looked at the paper, where a few digits were scribbled in hasty handwriting with a name underneath followed by a winky face. What the fuck.

“You can leave now,” Awashima told him and left, and for a second, Saruhiko considered throwing the paper away, but went instead for stuffing it inside his bag and making his way out the door. It was because the trash can was too far away, of course.

Although that was the stupidest excuse he could have thought of, even for himself, because he passed plenty of trash cans on his way home, and hadn’t thrown the paper away. Not because he’s forgotten, of course not – how do you forget having someone’s number forced onto you? Especially one who everyone claimed liked _him_? He was trying very hard to convince himself he wasn’t _flattered_ by the thought of it. Of course not.

This was an annoyance. When did his life become a wacky romantic comedy?

_No, there’s no romance here. It’s just a comedy. I deserve my own reality show._

Note to self: stay away from coffee shops.

 

It wasn’t very late when he got home, and even though he was tired from work and then classes, he didn’t really feel like sleeping. Which sucked, because he had no homework and nothing to do, and was lying uselessly in bed, which meant that his mind kept straying to the scrap of paper in the front pocket of his bag.

He’d managed to forget it for most of the day, but now he was alone, and it was suddenly all he could think about. He took it out and stared at the numbers, scowling at the winky face. It was as if everyone in the entire goddamn universe had decided he was to spend his life in irritation and misery.

Still…

 _This is so stupid_ , he told himself as he picked his phone off the side of his pillow and entered the numbers in. His finger hovered over the call button for a second, where he regarded the fact that what he was about to do was most likely very stupid. Which it was, and clearly, he was just as stupid because despite all the consideration, he did it anyway. Probably a result of all the happenings over the past few weeks. He’d been exposed to too much stupidity.

The call didn’t take long to connect. In fact, Saruhiko thought it connected way faster than normal, which was a good thing because he hated the dial tone. It was too loud and made his head hurt.

“Hello?” Misaki’s voice seemed tired. Saruhiko bit his lip.

“Misaki?”

“Hah? Don’t call me that! Who are you anyway?”

“You gave me too much money the other day,” Saruhiko said slowly, dragging every word out for longer than necessary. “Almost triple the price. You should come by and buy something with it.”

“I what? Wait, is this the asshole from the café? How did you get my number?”

“Your friends came to personally deliver it to me, against my will,” Saruhiko sighed. “And don’t ignore what I’m saying.”

There was a second’s silence. “Did you just ask me to come by? What,” his voice took on a playful turn. “Do you miss me?”

“No,” he snapped and his face felt like it was burning. He wasn’t going to be _embarrassed_ about this, what the fuck. There wasn’t even anything to be embarrassed _about_. “But you still left too much money.”

“You could have kept that as a tip or something.”

“Are you saying you don’t want sort-of free coffee, because I have no complaints about keeping the money.”

“Okay, okay, fine, I was running short anyway!” Misaki paused. “What are your shift timings?”

“Why.”

“What do you mean _why_ , how else will I get it for free? I gave _you_ the money, didn’t I?”

Saruhiko sighed. Why did he do this to himself? Why had he ever thought this was a good idea? “4:30 till 10 am.”

“That’s fucking insane.”

“I know.”

“Well, okay. See you tomorrow morning then.” Misaki hung up and Saruhiko stared at his phone. He’d – he’d actually done that, hadn’t he? He never intended to, of course not. He had fully meant to throw away the paper (maybe burn it) when he got home, but he here he was, setting up a date –

No, fuck no, not a _date_. He was paying someone back that was all. Or something.

He wasn’t even sure how he felt about it. His heart was pounding and he refused to believe it was anything to do with nervousness or excitement. He was probably just tired. Or something. Yeah right.

Still, despite all the attempts at denial, he couldn’t help but think about it, keeping himself up till really late, and was fully aware that he’d hate himself in the morning for it.

* * *

Which of course he did, because 4:30 am was fucking inhuman, and he had never been a morning person anyway. Was the sun even up? He was sure this would count as a _night_ shift.

He’d texted Awashima on a whim last night, telling her she didn’t have to come and open shop with him because he didn’t want to be with anyone because he hated the world, and even though he’d tried to make it as in character as possible, he knew she wouldn’t ever really fall for it. She wasn’t _stupid_ , unlike him. Maybe she’d ignore the text completely and be here on time, so he wouldn’t end up embarrassing himself by committing more stupidity.

She didn’t though, so when Misaki came in ten minutes later, holding his skateboard and clutching his jacket around himself, Saruhiko considered walking off to the back.

“Hi,” Misaki said, and his voice was low. Almost – dare he say it – _shy._ Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better.

“The usual, or some new diabetes inducing drink you’ve concocted?”

The response he got was a dirty look and Misaki dumped his bag on one of the tables before making his way to the counter. Saruhiko admitted he was surprised. He’d expected him to sit _at_ the counter, like he did when he actually stayed. It wasn’t even like there was anyone else there.

“The usual, I guess,” Misaki said, after squinting at the menu for a while. “I have homework that I forgot about, so I’ll just do that while I’m here.”

“Okay.” Saruhiko went about in preparing the coffee, secretly thankful that there won’t actually be any chance of conversation since Misaki was going to be busy, and definitely not disappointed about it, not at all. Misaki was standing and watching him awkwardly.

“So um, my friends are jerks, don’t listen to them, okay?”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so!” He huffed and crossed his arms, and then his agitated expression melted into a questioning one. “Aren’t you tired? You’re up so early everyday, I don’t know how you do it.”

“You’re also up this early every day,” Saruhiko said, handing him the coffee.

“Not _everyday_ , just the days I have early classes.” He took a sip. “It’s good, thanks.”

“I’m used to it,” Saruhiko told him, leaning against the counter and resting his face in his hands. “I’ve been doing this a while.”

Misaki frowned. “Still. No one’s here right now, is there? You should have something too and relax.”

“You mean steal when my boss isn’t looking?”

“Don’t be stupid, I meant there’s no customers so you don’t have to worry about them thinking you’re unprofessional or something.”

“I’ll do what I want, thanks.”

Giving him a dirty look, Misaki stuck his tongue out and sat down at the table, digging his books out of his bag and groaning as he opened to a random page. Saruhiko could hear him grumbling under his breath and rolled his eyes. It was only five yet, and he was tired. He’d been up till two, and he realized – definitely not because of what Misaki said, of course not – that if he wanted to function for the rest of the day without getting fired and/or kicked out of all his classes, he should probably have something to wake him up.

Which is how he found himself at the coffee machine, making himself a coffee and scowling because how did he end up doing this again? Actually _listening_ to what people told him to do.

But here he was, holding a cup of coffee and taking two slices of cake from the pantry for god knows what reason and seating himself at the table across Misaki. Who looked at the plate he pushed towards him in confusion.

“What?”

“Have it.”

“Eh? But I already got this from the extra money, right?” He nodded towards the cup in his hand.

“It’s on the house,” Saruhiko mumbled. “Take it before I change my mind.”

Misaki grinned, pulling the plate towards himself. “I’m not complaining. Thanks!”

An awkward silence settled, interrupted occasionally by the clinking of forks against the plates, and Saruhiko couldn’t help but scowl at himself because –

What the fuck was he doing?

Misaki was scribbling something in his notebook, looking back and forth between it and the textbook he had open, and sported a confused and frustrated expression on his face. Saruhiko watched silently, forgetting his own coffee and cake and just –

Well, he was watching. Watching Misaki. Doing his homework. That was normal wasn’t it? When you’re bored you find something to distract yourself and Misaki happened to right there and was a nice sight to look at and –

_Okay, stop._

He was shaken out of his thoughts when Misaki looked at the time and let out a startled yell.

“It’s almost six, fuck! I have to get to class, so I’ll see you later!” He stood up and packed his things and shot Saruhiko a toothy smile. “Thanks!”

He was almost out the door when he stopped and turned back. “Oh, I never got your name.”

“Fushimi.”

“That’s your last name, isn’t it?” Misaki asked. “It’s what the others call you. ‘Fushimi-san’.”

“Why do you care?”

“Well, you know _my_ stupid first name so it’s only fair that I know yours too.”

“Saruhiko,” he said, after a moment’s pause. “It’s Saruhiko.”

“Saruhiko,” Misaki repeated and a slow smile spread over his face. “Thanks! See you later!”

He sighed and cleared the table, washing the dishes and throwing the cups in the bin outside to destroy any evidence of anyone ever having come in at all. He hadn’t just _hung out_ with someone. He didn’t do hang outs. Ever.

Or at least, he _hadn’t_ , before today.

What the hell was happening to him?

Munakata called him over right before he left after his shift. The suspiciously devious look in his eyes told Saruhiko there was nothing good coming out of this. Not that he had ever thought anything coming from Munakata was _good_ , except maybe his paycheck, but this felt worse. He had a bad feeling.

“You have a bad feeling about everything,” Awashima said when he muttered it under his breath, but the look on her face was no better.

“Fushimi-kun,” Munakata said, smiling when he approached. “I do hope giving free food to you _friend_ isn’t going to become a regular thing.”

Saruhiko froze, feeling his face heat up. _What._ “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I always check the security footage on Thursdays, and I did so as usual.” Munakata gave him a sickeningly sweet smile and Saruhiko wanted to kill himself. Of fucking _course_. The security footage. It caught him on camera, giving free cake to a customer he claimed  to hate – well, he hadn’t used that word yet, but he’d tried to give off the impression, however false it may be – and then sitting with him while he had food of his own. “But I trust you, Fushimi-kun, so I’m sure it won’t happen again. Too often. Would it?”

“No,” Saruhiko replied, sullenly and ignored Awashima’s grin when he turned to leave. He was going to quit this job. And the sad part was, he told himself that everyday and yet. His life was sad. Maybe instead of a reality show he could be the protagonist of a tragedy.

* * *

Misaki came by again the next day, when the café was full of tired, sleep deprived students and Awashima was ordering everyone around in her usual bossy tone. She gave Saruhiko a disgustingly evil smile and told him to man the counter.

“Hey,” Misaki said. “What’s up?”

“I’m dying,” Saruhiko replied bluntly, and Misaki laughed.

“Yeah, I thought you would say something like that. The usual, I guess.”

“When you die of an unhealthy amount of sugar intake,” He took the money Misaki handed to him and punched in the numbers on the register. “I won’t be held responsible.”

“No one would hold you responsible, anyway,” Misaki told him, rolling his eyes. “You know what you’re responsible for, though? The fact that I got all my homework wrong.”

“Excuse me?” It was slightly quieter now – of course, fate had to choose _now_ of all times to spread silence, because when had fate ever treated him well? – and he was certain everyone in the entire goddamn shop, down to every last customer, was listening in on the conversation. Subconsciously, if not on purpose. His co-workers were definitely doing it on purpose, though. He could see them from the corner of his eye, pretending to be very busy with something or the other. “How am I responsible for your failures?”

“You were staring at me when I was doing it, so I got distracted!”

Awashima coughed out loud and Saruhiko scowled, face starting to burn. “Ex _cuse_ me, I did nothing of the sort.”

“Say what you want, but I noticed!” Misaki said, folding his arms across his chest and sticking his tongue out at him. Very mature. “And I get my homework _right_ , most of the time, and you made me feel self conscious with you just constantly looking at me, so I got it all wrong!”

Saruhiko was fully aware of every eye on him as he scowled and turned away from the counter to make the coffee. “I wasn’t looking at you, I was staring off into space.”

“Whatever you say, Saru.”

Saruhiko froze. He noted Awashima smirking to herself towards the side, as if he couldn’t see her. Did she really think he was blind enough not to see the way she was openly laughing at him? No, scratch that, the way they were _all_ openly laughing at him. Assholes. He sent them all telepathic death threats that they didn’t get, because they kept looking at him and trying to hide their smiles. He turned back to Misaki, holding the coffee out to him.

“Did you just call me ‘Saru’?”

“Hm?” Misaki raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“My name is Saruhiko.”

“Yeah, and Saru is short for that, big deal. What, do you prefer the whole thing cause - ”

“Saru is fine,” he said, and suddenly felt really self conscious, standing there and – telling someone that it was fine to call him by a nickname. No, didn’t he just imply he _preferred_ a nickname? How did his life come to this?

“So, Saru,” Misaki said, “Are you free tomorrow?”

“What?”

“You’re free, right? Don’t tell me you work on weekends.”

“I do, but it’s a shorter shift.”

“Cool, so,” Misaki took a sip and grinned at him. “We can go somewhere.”

“What.”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun. It’s a Saturday. I’ll come pick you up or something and then we can, I don’t know, do stuff, I guess?” He checked the watch on his right hand and cursed. “Fuck, I gotta go. Text me, okay?”

Saruhiko watched in bewilderment as Misaki ran out of the shop, and didn’t notice Awashima sidle up to him until she was right there, giving him a look that said she was clearly amused – and of course, why wouldn’t she, because she was a sadist and was laughing at his misery. Though it wasn’t _misery,_ not really. She was like a teenager laughing at her friend’s crush.

No, that implied he was the friend with the crush _._ Fuck this.

“It appears,” she said with a smirk. “That Grumpy Fushimi has been asked out on a date.”

_What. The fuck._

Honestly, he should have known from that very first day he set eyes on Munakata’s smiling face that this wouldn’t turn out well. Actually, he _did_ know – he’d figured it out within the first ten minutes of conversation that Munakata was a complete sadist and the fact that he still took the job indicated his levels of stupidity were higher than he’d thought. Maybe it wasn’t even the atmosphere affecting him; it could even have just come from within.

He was standing in the middle of the office, with Munakata seated behind his desk and Awashima at the door. She hadn’t even bothered to shut it, so the entire staff was hanging around outside, as if they couldn’t be seen. Saruhiko wanted to stab them all with pens.

“It has come to my attention, Fushimi-kun,” Munakata said now, smiling at him in his stupid obnoxious know-it-all way, “that you have begun _courting_.”

Resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall, Saruhiko blinked blankly at his boss.

“I’m sure you already know most of this,” Munakata continued, “But I feel that it is my duty to make sure you are well informed before you proceed further.”

Saruhiko blinked again. He was fairly certain he knew where this was going but that was a terrifying thought, so he decided not to clarify, because if he did then it’d become so much more real than it was as an assumption –

“Now, Fushimi-kun. I’m sure you’re aware that sex on a first date is not recommended.”

What the _fuck_.

“I am not having this conversation with you,” Saruhiko snapped. Not that it was any use because Munakata simply ignored him in favour or continuing his speech.

“However, if you do end up following that path, you must remember that using protection is essential – ”

“I’m leaving.”

“No, Fushimi-kun.” Munakata laid a hand on an envelope on his desk. It was, he realized belatedly, his paycheck. Fuck his life. “You must know these things.”

“I already know them.”

“Do you have any experience?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Fushimi-kun, I am simply looking out for the wellbeing of one of my most important employees.”

Saruhiko shot him a dirty look, receiving a smile in response, and decided there couldn’t possibly anything worse than this. He was getting a sex talk from his fucking boss at the age of twenty one. He’d committed a lot of sins but he wasn’t sure which one would warrant such a punishment.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a very suitable example,” Munakata said, and picked up the small potted cactus on his desk. “So this will have to do for now. Now, do you know how to use a condom?”

“Frankly, sir,” Saruhiko said bluntly, because really, this was too much. “I’d rather have that up my ass than stay and be a part of this conversation.”

There was a snort from the door and he turned to glare at Awashima who had a hand clamped over her mouth to stop from laughing. Meanwhile, his co-workers outside were outright guffawing and clearly had no problem with being heard. They would die soon.

“That doesn’t sound very pleasant, Fushimi-san,” Said his boss. “In fact, I assume it would be quite painful.”

“Right, thank you very much for the lecture, I have classes in a while, good bye.” Fuck his paycheck he’d get it later somehow.

Throwing death glares at everyone who’d been listening in – which somehow included the guy who’d come to deliver their products – Saruhiko picked up his bag from the back room and left the store as fast as possible.

 

He didn’t actually getting around to texting Misaki. He was too preoccupied, with the horror of the day’s happenings creeping back into his mind to remember to text, so he was somewhat surprised when Misaki called him instead, right before he was about to go to bed.

“You didn’t text.”

“I forgot.”

“I’m going to assume you really did forget and aren’t trying to avoid me,” Misaki said and Saruhiko had to remind himself that questioning why he’d want to avoid him would only result in more questions about why not, and he didn’t want to get into that right now.

Mostly because he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to the question, but also because he was tired and hated everything. He sighed and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, where the paint was starting to chip off.

“So anyway,” Misaki continued. “What time will you be done with work?”

“Around twelve. I have a late shift on weekends.”

“Okay good, then I’ll come and pick you up and we’ll go get lunch or something.”

“Why do you want to hang out with me, anyway.”

Misaki hummed. “I don’t know. You’re interesting and funny and I like you.”

“Oh?” There was a smile pulling at the corners of his lips and Saruhiko had to fight it. He wasn’t _happy_ about that. What a ridiculous thought.

“I-I mean! I mean I don’t like you in the _like_ way, you know! I mean like, _like_ in the we should be friends way because you’re someone I don’t hate – ”

“You know,” Saruhiko interrupted. “I did tell you before, you should think about things before you say them.”

“Fuck you!”

He laughed. He could almost imagine the look on Misaki’s face. An amusing shade of purple, eyes blown wide with panic and darting side to side as he tried to hastily come up with excuses.

“See you tomorrow then,” he said lazily.

“Y-yeah. Bye.”

He didn’t sleep for a while, but that was hardly surprising.

 _It’s not a fucking date_ , he told himself, but the excitement he refused to acknowledge was still there.

* * *

He entered the store the next morning to a bizarre sight. The counter was covered in small potted cacti, and Awashima gave him a smug grin as he looked at them in bewilderment.

“Good morning,” she said, and Saruhiko gave her a look.

“What,” he began, “Is that.”

She only shrugged in response and told him to man the counter. It was some kind of sick joke, he decided, for what happened yesterday. It was Munakata who decided to frustrate him further by placing all the stupid plant porcupines within his field of vision. It was something Munakata would definitely do. Maybe if Saruhiko picked one up and threw it in his face, it wouldn’t be as funny anymore.

He pulled on an apron and ignored the evil looks on his co-workers’ faces as he made his way to the front. A small canvas was propped up against one of the pots.

 _Fushimi-san_ , it said. _We accept you for who you are._ It was followed by everyone’s signatures, and Saruhiko decided it was finally the day. He was going to kill himself, but first he’d kill everyone he knew.

“Fucking hilarious,” he muttered. His face was burning and behind him, Domyouji was cackling, where everyone else was trying to politely suppress their laughter. At least _some_ of them didn’t want to die immediately.

No, they all wanted to die. Maybe Domyouji was the one who _didn’t_ want to die first because at least he was upfront about his intentions.

He was going to pretend to be completely unaffected, he decided. He left the note and the plants where they were, and gave an unnaturally cheery smile to the next customer – a girl he recognised as a regular only too late – who gave him a startled look.

 

Misaki came in at eleven thirty, with the expected result of everyone escaping to the back, and the somewhat embarrassed look on his face died as he eyed the cacti and note in confusion.

“What’s this?”

“A sign that I’m going to jail for murder.”

“I would ask, but I’m not sure I want to know.” He sat down on one of the stools, and it was then that Saruhiko realised he was half an hour _early_. Why was he early? “So um. Do you have any place you want to go?”

“You’re the one who invited me,” He replied. “You should know where to go.”

“I was just _asking_ you know, in case there was any place you _wanted_ to go.”

“There isn’t. I don’t really care.”

“Very excited about this, aren’t you?”

“Hm?” Saruhiko leaned against the counter and raised an eyebrow. “What about you, Misaki? Are _you_ excited?”

Misaki’s face flushed but to his surprise, he didn’t bother trying to deny it. “W-well yeah! We’re going to have fun, right?”

Saruhiko paused to take that in. He’d been expecting stuttering and stammering and denial but this – this was different. Why was it making him feel so _nervous_? “I suppose.”

“A-anyway! Just go finish your shift, I’ll wait here.”

“Do you want something to eat or drink? To pass time?”

“No, I’m good. I’ll just watch you work.” There was a moment of awkward silence. “I-I mean–!”

“Okay,” Saruhiko muttered, trying to ignore the flush in his face. “You can watch me work.”

Misaki swallowed and nodded, suddenly very interested in one of the cacti in front of him. Saruhiko watched as Misaki absentmindedly poked one of the spines and yelped in pain. He shook his head and went back to work. He had twenty minutes left.

 

He escaped before Munakata had the chance to call him to his office. He wasn’t fast enough to escape the thumbs ups and victory signs his co-workers shot at him, or the ‘have fun, Fushimi’ Awashima told him with lots of amusement in her voice and on her face, but at least he didn’t have to face his boss. That counted for something.

“Finally!” Misaki said, when he came out in his normal clothes. “I was so bored I counted all the spikey things on one of your plants.”

“They’re not my plants and they’re called spines.”

“Whatever, you know-it-all.”

Saruhiko ignored the looks he got from behind the counter as they exited the store. It was a nice day, he supposed. Sunny and comfortable – not too humid, but not dry either. Good weather. The kind of day he would normally be annoyed by, because it was too cheerful and merry, but somehow today felt different.

“It’s a nice day,” Misaki said after a few minutes of walking and Saruhiko snorted.

“You’re making small talk about the _weather_?”

“W-well what else do I talk about? Random cactus facts?”

“Some candies are made of cactus.”

“I didn’t ask for cactus facts!” He paused. “Also what the fuck, who would eat cactus candy?”

Saruhiko shrugged. “I’m just telling you cactus facts.”

“That I didn’t ask for,” Misaki shot at him. “But now I’m very curious. Tell me more. Maybe also some facts about why there were so many cactuses - ”

“Cacti.”

“ _Whatever_. Why there were so many _cacti_ on the counter.”

Saruhiko rolled his eyes and turned his head away. “It’s a sick joke by my boss. He thinks this is a date.”

They approached a pedestrian crossing and Misaki stopped, stepping in front of him to give him a determined look. His cheeks were red, Saruhiko noticed, but surprisingly, when he spoke, he didn’t stutter.

“I don’t know what cactus has to do with this but,” he took a deep breath and looked away, and the colour on his cheeks deepened. “This c-can be a date if you want.”

Saruhiko’s eyes widened as he felt his own face start to heat up and he swallowed hard. Misaki was still looking at him. “I don’t know,” he managed to say. “It can be a date if you want.”

“Well, fine. I want it to be a date. What about _you_?”

Surprised, he opened his mouth to respond and closed it again when he realised he had nothing to say. His face felt like it was on fire at this point, and his heart was thudding against his chest. There was really no point in denying it _now_. He turned his eyes away, clicking his tongue, and Misaki laughed lightly, reaching out to take his hand. It was small in his, but it warm and he wasn’t entirely prepared for the way Misaki’s fingers curled around his.

“You’re so grumpy,” Misaki told him. “It’s cute. And I also mean _you’re_ cute, not just the grumpiness.”

“I knew that already, idiot,” Saruhiko muttered and allowed him to pull him forward across the street.

* * *

 

**_fin._  
**

**Author's Note:**

> candylit.tumblr.com


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